


I Don't Want to Be You Anymore

by Lif61 (UltimateFandomTrash)



Series: Whumptober 2020 [26]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel Whump, Chronic Illness, Day 26, Gen, Headaches & Migraines, Human Castiel (Supernatural), If You Thought The Head Trauma Was Bad..., Migraine, POV Castiel, Whump, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:14:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27205079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltimateFandomTrash/pseuds/Lif61
Summary: Castiel wonders why his head is hurting so badly. Is this normal for a human?
Series: Whumptober 2020 [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947223
Kudos: 36
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	I Don't Want to Be You Anymore

**Author's Note:**

> Whumptober 2020
> 
> No 26. IF YOU THOUGHT THE HEAD TRAUMA WAS BAD...
> 
> Migraine

Castiel couldn’t get out of bed. It wasn’t a very impressive bed, as far as beds went. It was lumpy, and creaked a lot, and he was pretty sure one of the boards in the middle of the underside of the frame was cracked. Yet now it felt like the greatest thing in the world.

In his dark room, Castiel’s head hurt, the pain unrelenting. It throbbed and refused to leave. It was just there, like some unwanted bug that no one could figure out how to kill or set loose. Of course in this case, the bug was a massive arachnid bigger than a human being, and it had gotten him with its stinger. Or maybe it wasn’t a bug. What else could hurt him badly? An elephant?

The similes were stupid.

His head hurt. That’s what mattered.

Castiel couldn’t figure out why it hurt.

Did humans just go through this, and never speak of it, and power through? Was it normal? Or was it abnormal? Did he have to call Dean about this?

The pain increased, like a hammer had smashed against the left side of his skull. He put a hand to it, feeling like he had to hold his brain in, or else it’d fall out through his agonized head. A whimper left him, and he rolled onto his right side.

Oh no. Bad idea. Very bad idea.

The motion now taught him that the pain wasn’t the only thing afflicting him. The world spun, even with his eyes closed. And he felt like he was going to be sick.

Forcing himself to take deep breaths, he reached out for his phone.

He had to call Dean. He just had to. He needed help.

Being in a human body was so new to him, that he just didn’t know what to do. And even if he did, how was he supposed to get out of bed?

If he stood up he’d fall over.

That was the last thing he wanted.

Castiel kept his eyes closed, realizing the dark was better than even the bit of light coming in through the motel room window. Funny that humans feared the dark, and now he would hug it if it had a physical manifestation.

He groped for his phone, and there was a clattering that seemed to sound his doom.

His phone had fallen on the floor.

Castiel cracked his eyes open, and tears immediately formed, blurring his vision. Throat aching from the build up of emotion, the corners of his eyes and his sinuses pricking, Castiel wished for his Grace back. He wished for it every moment, every day, but in this moment he just couldn’t handle it anymore. He’d already been hurt, degraded, forced to have to do human things like brush his teeth and pee. It was barbaric, and not right for an angel. How had Anna done it? Why had she voluntarily chosen a life of needing to sleep and eat and empty one’s body of bacteria? How could anyone even live like this? Didn’t they get sick of it? Didn’t they yearn for something more? Didn’t they wish they didn’t have a body that was constantly whining like a needy small child?

In that moment when he searched for his phone and tried to hold back the feelings of hatred at what his life had become, Castiel realized how honorable Sam and Dean were. They didn’t just go through life. They didn’t just work to keep themselves alive. They willingly exerted themselves, let themselves get hurt, exhausted, all to save others. All to bring a little light into the world.

Castiel found his phone.

The first thing he did was turn the brightness down, and then after a few minutes of clumsy motions with his thumb over the screen, he managed to call Dean. He put it on speaker, not wanting sound so close to his ear.

“Hey, Cas, what’s up?”

“My head hurts.” There seemed to be no other way to describe it.

“Uh… that’s not good news.”

Dean didn’t seem to be taking it seriously, even sounded slightly annoyed.

“It’s horrible,” Castiel got out. “And I can’t move it or else I feel like I’m going to be sick. Fuck, Dean, even light hurts.”

“You sure those are your symptoms?”

“Do you want me to ask my head for its opinion?” Castiel asked, voice rich and biting with sarcasm.

“Right, right. Sorry.” There was long pause, so long that Castiel thought that maybe Dean had hung up. Then: “Okay, just let me look something up.”

“Fuck.”

Dean reprimanded, “Language!”

Castiel groaned, and then asked, voice quiet, tired, “Don’t you say it all the time?”

“Shut up.”

Castiel decided that was actually a really good idea.

He waited for Dean to finish typing away at his laptop, and clinking on links, and reading.

Finally: “Okay, yeah, just what I thought.” How insightful. Castiel would’ve rolled his eyes if it didn’t feel like the pain was about to push them out of his head, and stage a coup to take over his entire brain. “You’ve got a migraine.”

“A migraine?” Castiel asked.

“Uh, so it’s a really bad headache.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

“Okay, hold on, looking up an exact definition now. Uh… ‘ _A headache of varying intensity, often accompanied by nausea and sensitivity to light and sound._ ’”

“No kidding.”

Dean read on, “‘ _Migraine headaches are sometimes preceded by warning symptoms. Triggers include…_ ’ duh-duh-duh… ‘ _stress._ ’ You been stressed?”

“No,” Castiel snarked.

“Damn, being human is making you sarcastic.”

“Shut up. What can I do about it?”

“You got any Tylenol?”

“What’s that?”

Dean sighed. “Okay, I’m coming over there. I’ll just track your phone. Stay put.”

If Castiel wasn’t so sick he would laugh. There wasn’t any way he could go anywhere anyway.

Dean hung up, and Castiel dropped his phone to the floor, not caring if the screen cracked. His head throbbed mercilessly.

But Dean was coming.

Dean was coming to help him.

The world and reality of humanity — as Dean would say — sucked ass, and his best friend had kicked him out of the bunker, but at least he was going to help him.

Dean would be with him.

And even with the intense throbbing that bled and ground down right into his brain, Castiel felt just a tiny bit of hope.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so yeah, I forgot to mention that migraines were chronic, and that human Castiel would've had them all along, and since he's human now, they're finally showing themselves. But whatever. I got the phone call with Dean in there.


End file.
